


we burn like ice, we fear the sun

by Shampain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Family, Gen, Jotun Thor, Jotunheim, Odinsons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you are wrong, my King,” she said. “Then we are childless.”<br/>“I am not wrong,” Odin responded, taking her hand. “They are brothers and our sons.”</p><p>-<br/>AU. In punishment for his disobedience, Odin sends Thor into Jotunheim, stripping him of his powers - and turning him into a member of the race Thor hates so much. Loki, guilt-ridden, follows to protect him. Requested by my friend, based on her artwork of Jotun!Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we burn like ice, we fear the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot which I may continue one day, but as it stands now here 'tis. I actually wrote this awhile ago, just forgot to upload it!  
> My friend's artwork is here: http://thunderscry.deviantart.com/art/Cursed-Jotun-Thor-452754865

Loki felt a burning numbness crawling through his chest, angry hot fingers seizing his heart. The wind was icy cold and stung his face, but he registered this dimly, with the realization that, no, the cold had never, truly _bothered_ him. It had its place, it surrounded him like a blanket. He took one step forward, felt shards of ice crack under his boot.

Whatever had happened and would happen, he must find Thor. It was his fault his brother was in this mess, and without his aid, he wouldn't last a single day in this accursed place.

Accursed.

“Who cursed us?” he asked, aloud, as he walked through the remains of Jotunheim. A dark, contemplative mood was upon him, despite his urgency. Once it must have been beautiful; now it was all ruins, weeping ice. What had this place looked like when he was a baby? How old had he been when he left?

Not important. Not important.

“Where are you, you big oaf?” he muttered under his breath, searching the shadows.

 

Frigga was agitated. Odin was a real king – strong, wise, steadfast. To say he was fearless would be folly, for he feared all things good men feared. But little intimidated him.

His real, true opponent through the years was also his partner. He had learned through the course of their marriage that all of his decisions had to be true to his heart and to his mind, for if there were any question as to their veracity, she would find them. She sought them out, she discovered any inconsistency. She did not do this to work against him; she did it to make him a better man. He was, with Frigga at his side, the best man he could ever become.

So when she was displeased, he disliked dealing with it. But he would stand firm. As Frigga stood at the balcony, looking out across their realm, he sensed the distress coming off of her in waves, though outwardly, she showed nothing.

She and Loki were so alike. If only they were both more like Thor; he was so much easier to read. But alas; secrets were unavoidable in families such as theirs. The biggest, of course, had just been revealed. More or less.

“He's gone after him?” she asked the open air.

He went to stand beside her. His queen, as beautiful as the day he had met her, but she, like he, had grown wiser as they aged, fiercer, more realistic. “Yes,” he said. “He has. He will find him soon.”

“You knew he would go,” Frigga said, looking at him. The anger was all in her eyes, hot and boiling; her mouth was simply a firm line. “You sent both of our sons away. _There_.”

“Loki's jealousy will destroy him,” Odin replied, plainly. “And Thor's hubris will destroy them both. Thor will learn, as will Loki.”

“They're both in danger. And now Loki-” she paused. Odin remembered all of them, much younger; he remembered watching Frigga hold the strange, blue baby in her arms, plucked from the ravages of the battlefield. Another Asgardian would have balked at the idea of taking a Jotun into their home. But Frigga had cradled the crying baby and soothed him to silence. Odin had suspected that the child had never known a kind hand until he had plucked him from the ruins.

Odin placed his hand on his queen's elbow. “He would have found out sooner or later.”

“Maybe we should have told him ourselves. I wanted to. Before this.”

“I know.”

“Banishment,” she said, softly. “Thor by your hand, and Loki by his choice to follow.”

“Thor will redeem himself. And he will learn to value all that Loki does for him. Perhaps then Loki will be cured of his poison.”

“Our son is not poisoned,” Frigga said, rounding on him suddenly. “He is lost.”

“And he will find his way. He takes after his mother.”

She smiled at him, bitterly, angrily. He knew that she would have asked him to reverse the decision, were it not for the fact that entering Jotunheim again – that would incite full war, would toss both sides up into a frenzy, and would further endanger Thor and Loki's place in that land. Their sons could not be retrieved, not without risking the safety of both them and Asgard. Tensions were tight. Laufey was already angry, with war on the horizon.

“If you are wrong, my King,” she said. “Then we are childless.”

“I am not wrong,” Odin responded, taking her hand. “They are brothers and our sons.”

 

It was cold, but not as cold as it had been before.

Thor beat at the ground, fiercely, enraged. He missed the weight of his hammer, familiar, pulsing at his side. He missed the feeling of true chill, biting at his bones, and not this... this...

He missed his own skin.

The fists that beat against the ice, spreading a spiderweb of cracks along the surface, were pale blue, ringed with markings that were both familiar and repulsive. What he was really doing was attacking his own reflection; in the pale mirror of ice had been a distorted image of something demonic, a horned creature with fierce, red eyes.

In the distance the wind howled through craggy, blasted mountains. He was nowhere near the centre where Laufey held sway; and even though his bloodlust would have taken him all the way there, to certain death, to challenge that so-called king, his shame at his own appearance...

Thor hated to be laughed at.

The rage was a good distraction from the fear, and the turmoil, and the _ache_. Oh, the ache. His own father had _banished_ him and transformed him, and for what? For _defending Asgard_? He didn't understand!

He had to change his mind, soon. This was utter madness. It was impossible to send the crown prince to Jotunheim as a monster. Who would rule instead? Loki? It was preposterous. His brother wasn't kingly.

He loved Loki, yes, and he was very skilled. But he wasn't what Asgard would need in this new age of rule. The citizens had made their favour quite clear.

The faint howl of wind was growing stronger. Though he was quite absorbed in his trouble, Thor looked up, invisible hackles rising. It was more than wind he heard, something heavier. A dense body moving towards him.

Thor leaped the minute the strange cat came into view over the icy ridge, mere feet away. Its body was as long as Thor was tall, with a lashing tail and mottled grey fur, clawed feet that dug into the ice and probably kept grip in even the fiercest of snowstorms. Thor slammed his fist against its jaws, filled with yellowed teeth, flecked with hungry spittle.

He was weaponless, but he was not weak. He was a _son of Odin!_ And even as he thought that, those hooked claws slashed through his forearm and pain like he had never felt it before blossomed through the wound.

He fell back, colliding with the unyielding ground, the cat on top of him. He kicked it off, viciously, enraged at being taken down so easily. With a roll he was back on his feet, about to charge, when the cat lunged.

A dagger sank into its left eye.

The force of its leap had it still moving through the air, colliding with Thor, but he pushed it away easily, and it fell to the ground in its final death throes. Disbelieving, he bent and tugged the dagger from its eye, and handed it over to Loki, who had silently appeared at his shoulder.

“Why didn't you just headbutt it?” Loki asked, with a smirk up at Thor's new horns.

Thor bristled. “Be silent,” he growled; a second later, though, he dragged his younger brother forward into a hug, relief like he'd never felt before filling his chest.

“Are the others with you?” he asked, with an eager glance around. They would have all come to get him, led by Loki, to bring him home.

The smile on Loki's face flickered. “No,” he said. “It's just me.”

Perhaps it was better that way. He didn't want anyone else to see him like this; and he and Loki were more than enough of a match against this terrible world.

“Shelter, I think,” Loki said, pulling away. “And that arm.”


End file.
